Page 70 of Sight Unseen

“Yes, well, the bottom line was they said if I couldn’t control my own son, how in hell’s name could I manage a project in Rio that big. Then they left.” His tone was vicious. “After you disgraced me like that, I was so tempted to go those extra steps anyway and ruin the Fishers and your boy-toy as I’d promised.”

“So why didn’t you?” I whispered. “I waited for you to do it for months.” The burning question I’d wanted the answer to for years slipped from my lips.

My father’s voice was toxic waste when he replied. “One of those investors knew Samuel Fisher and his family. She would have suspected who was behind any measure to cause trouble for him because you’d just aired all our dirty laundry in front of her. Your mother talked me out of it. She said you weren’t worth it and said it wouldn’t look good for the business if I did what I should have done. You should thank her for that because I was so tempted to damn the consequences.”

“Sure.” I laughed bitterly. “Make sure you tell her thank you for me. You were both only saving your own skins. If you could have gotten away with it, you would have done it.”

My father didn’t dispute that. “I couldn’t salvage the deal, no matter what I said in mitigation. They didn’t want to know me. Then you called and stirred it all up again with your disgusting admission of your life. And when Dirk told me about that piece of mud, I thought, I could afford it. Best twenty thousand I’ve spent in a long while.” My father’s voice was triumphant. “Is that all, Nathan? Don’t call here again. No one will speak to you. And remember—you’re dead to us. All of us. Try to stay that way, will you?”

He hung up.

I slid down the wall to the floor. The tears came; hot drops that spilled down my cheeks and burned my skin. Each tear contained all the pent-up emotions I’d held inside me for so long, along with the last remnants of hope I’d ever had that my family cared about me.

I’d always wondered why my father hadn’t made good on his threats. Now I knew.

I didn’t even remember going to the studio. I only remembered standing inside and thinking of the happy hours I’d had here creating something that now resided in a garbage dump. Much like any residual emotional attachment I might have had for my family.

I’d been a fool. Cody had been right to question my eternal optimism. I’d held out hope for too long, and once again it had destroyed me. This time, for good.

There would be no moving on from this. I would never contact them again.

In the empty quiet of my studio I screamed my defiance until I was hoarse. Sobbing hysterically, I stumbled around, completely losing my bearings. I couldn’t find my cane, and was clueless as to where I was spatially. I reached out, seeking some landmark to ground myself, and heard something smash to the floor. It shouldn’t have been possible to feel any worse, but I did. I searched around frantically, hoping what I thought was lying smashed to smithereens on the floor wasn’t so.

“Please,” I begged, “please don’t let it be you.”

My seeking fingers found the familiar layout of my current workspace, the tools I’d left there, the old rag cloth I’d used and the packet of mints I’d left on the worktop. The one thing that wasn’t there was Nate’s Folly. The familiar bust of my lover’s head, the piece I’d created from love, regret and desire, wasn’t there anymore.

Bile spewed forth as I retched, burning my throat. I slumped to my knees on the floor, ignoring the sharp pricks of pain as shards of clay broke through my jeans and pierced my skin.

Nate’s Folly lay in pieces on the floor and nothing could have prepared me for the devastating loss I felt deep in my gut and heart. I leaned over it, trying to sweep the pieces up with my fingers. Fingers that hurt from being cut by the sharp fragments.

“I can fix this,” I muttered desperately. “I can fix it.”

It was all a lie. I knew there would be no fixing this.

“Nate? Baby, what the hell is going on, you’re bleeding.”

Strong hands pulled me to my feet and I fought them, wanting to salvage what lay in pieces before me.

“Leave me, Cody, I have to fix this. My dad isn’t going to win this time.” I scrabbled at the hands holding me up, even as my legs threatened to give way.

“Nate, it’s broken, honey. I don’t think it can be fixed.” Cody’s soothing voice washed over me, but I heard the touch of fear lacing his tone. “Please, let me check you over. You’re bleeding.”

I shook my head frantically. Light bursts flashed before my eyes, annoying little flashes that I knew meant nothing, that I was stressed. It had happened before.

“Nate, did you call your dad already? Is that what this is all about?” The anguish in his tone was hard to miss. “What the hell did he say to get you in this mess?”

He escorted me across the room, and I clung to his hip. Then there was the sound of water running. My hands were pushed under the cool liquid and I hissed in pain.

“I destroyed it, like I nearly destroyed you the first time. I am so tired of this shit. He fucked us up, like he always does.”

Cody’s fingers gently massaged mine and they were wrapped in something soft and dry. “Nate, you’re not making any sense. What did you destroy?”

“Us, you,” I shrieked, and laughed. “My dad once again got his vicious claws in everything I held dear and took it away. He destroyed Conchious Effort. He bought it with the sole purpose of chucking it away and letting me know he’d done it. Just to get his revenge on me for what I did all those years ago, and for what I said when I called him last month. He’s a fucking monster. A bastard.”

Cody took me to the old, worn sofa and sat us down.

“Christ, Nate, I’m so sorry. That’s a disgustingly vile thing to do. I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered as he stroked my hair and I wept against his chest.